


Inside These Walls- One

by 8makes1cheese



Series: Ticking Clocks, We Count the Hours [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Bigotry & Prejudice, Dark Comedy, Emotional Hurt, Humor, M/M, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Past Drug Use, Past Sexual Abuse, Superpowers, i don't really know where this is going, seonghwa is really pretty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:41:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22202752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8makes1cheese/pseuds/8makes1cheese
Summary: After the devastating confirmation that their son is exactly what they feared him to be, the Song family bids him goodbye as they leave him to a life in an out-of-the-way asylum. Little do they know what goes on behind these doors, inside these walls....
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Kang Yeosang, Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Series: Ticking Clocks, We Count the Hours [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1598215
Comments: 19
Kudos: 160





	1. Beginning of the End

**Author's Note:**

> What inspired me to make this? I have no clue. 
> 
> Basically, everyone's lives suck and they're all superheroes~ 
> 
> amd yeah, they're in a Generic Fanfiction Asylum lmao- 
> 
> and it's set in 2023!

His eyes glaze over as the car pulls away. Headlights illuminate a path through the woods, through the darkness and the cold, leaving him behind forever. 

Leaving him. 

They've left him. All alone. 

...

"He seems stable," the man murmers. 

"It can be that way," his female companion answers. "Seonghwa seemed all right when he came. Struck up a conversation on makeup with Jihyo." Her snort echoes off the walls. 

The man is silent for a moment. Then he replies, voice tight, "Nothing was wrong with Seonghwa. Not before he came." 

The woman doesn't answer at all. 

The man stops in front of a door, hands shaking. The number carved into the door is nearly invisible, but he remembers when it was new. Years, so many years, have worn it away, and they've taken their toll on the wrecked creature inside as well. 

He waves the woman away as he turns his key in the lock, setting his jaw firmly. He slips quickly through the door and bars it. 

A little sigh escapes his lips. "I shouldn't be here." 

"Neither should I," is all he gets. 

He crouches, face-to-face with the bent human figure on the cot. "Would you just look at me? Please." 

"I don't want to see you." 

"I'm trying, I'm trying so hard. I know I've been saying this for years, but I will save you, I promise. I'll get you out."

"No, you won't. You're lying." 

"Seonghwa-" 

"You're lying!" His shout echoes, and he lunges forward off the cot. The man jumps back, his head hitting against the door. He grits his teeth in pain, standing just out of reach of the chained male before him, who stares fiercely at the wall and refuses to make eye contact. 

It's been so long, but Seonghwa is still beautiful. The man swallows. 

His hair is dark and fairly short, now, but the long, soft blond locks he had when he arrived are still a clear picture in his observer's brain. He's dressed identical to every other patient, his white clothes hanging loosely off his thin frame, but his cheeks still have color, his eyes are still fiery, his lips are still pink. He looks like a doll, one that has been left on a shelf several years too long. Beautiful, but faded. 

"Seonghwa," comes the breathy whisper. 

"Go away, Hongjoong. Just go away." 

"I'm coming back for you. When I find a way, I swear I'm coming back." He swallows, eyes stinging. "I love you." 

"No, you don't. Get out." 

He leaves. 

He turns the key, just as he has so many times, and chains the door behind him. He barely feels strong enough to stand, but he manages to carry himself away, just as he has every day for the past eight years. 

God. It's really been eight years. 

Eight years since they came here, under vastly different circumstances. A victim of buried horrors, done an awful injustice and cast out from society to live out his life in this prison-like place, repeating a story that nearly no one was willing to accept; and his only believer, a small, quiet young man whose training and hard work quickly earned him a job at the hellish institution that held the other. Most importantly, he stood firm as the sole witness to the tragedy that had torn Park Seonghwa's life to pieces. 

It's been eight years since Hongjoong has kissed the most precious person in his life, seven years since he's been held in the taller's arms, six years since he's had a chance to lie still with the other man's head resting on his chest. Five years since either of them has smiled. Four years since they've had a conversation longer than five minutes. Three years since they've held hands, two years since they've touched at all. 

One year since the lower voice has echoed his "I love you." 

Perhaps when another year has passed, Seonghwa won't speak to him at all. 

Hongjoong wishes nothing more than to burn this whole place down, and to slaughter the two demons- he refuses to even acknowledge their humanity- who did this to his Seonghwa. 

But we can't all have what we want or deserve. The gold goes to those who have done nothing to earn it, while the ones who need it most are left with only rocks. 

...

He isn't alone. 

For whatever reason, they've allowed him a double room, separated from his cellmate by thin metal bars, too close together for any adult to pass through. The first thing he does is lie down on the cot to cry. 

"New?" 

He raises his head.

"So they got you too," the voice says grimly. 

"What do you mean? Who are you? I don't know you." 

"I don't know you either. But no one deserves this." 

The speaker comes into view at last. He's young, tall and broad with wavy brown hair and wide, innocent eyes. Puppy eyes. He looks like a fish out of water against the gloomy background of the room- it's a cell, that's what it is, a prison cell. They aren't patients, they're prisoners. 

He's cute, honestly. Not beautiful, or gorgeous, hot or handsome. Cute is the only word that truly fits. 

"How long?" Mingi finds his voice. 

He doesn't need to explain; the puppy seems to know right away.

"Three years." 

"God," Mingi's head spins. "I've been here ten minutes and I already want to die." 

"It gets numb, after a while. You'll get used to it." 

Mingi huffs. The puppy gives a hollow laugh. 

"Yunho." He extends a hand through the bars. "Jeong Yunho, but I haven't been called my full name in years." 

"Song Mingi." They shake hands. Yunho's hand is large, rough and warm. His grip is firm.

"Welcome to hell," Yunho drawls. "We're all children of Jesus. Or we were." 

"You did not just reference Vine in an asylum." 

"I'm not crazy, just misunderstood," Yunho says sweetly. 

Mingi hears something more in those words than what's spoken. 

"You too?" He whispers. 

Yunho's eyes sparkle. "More of us than you may think."

"Holy shit," Mingi breathes. "What's your..." 

"I can change my shape," Yunho says quietly. "I can be anything I want to be." 

Mingi is speechless. He was ready to expect anything, but not this. 

So he's not alone here, after all...

"You?" Yunho questions. 

"Fire." Mingi swallows, unpleasant memories swimming around his head. "I can create and manipulate fire." 

Yunho whistles. 

It's the end of their first conversation. They don't have another for over twenty-four hours. 

Mingi is lonely enough to die already.


	2. Say My Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hongjoong doesn't break his promises.

It comes to him in the night, eight years later than it should have. 

The laundry cart. 

Believe it or not, the asylum has a real, honest-to-goodness laundry cart, used to haul dirty bedding away and return it after washing. And Hongjoong was given the responsibility of the cart. 

The cart isn't that big, but it's big enough for a human to hide in. Seonghwa is tall, but petite, and if he rolls up into a ball he should have no trouble fitting on the cart. 

He may not appreciate being covered by nasty laundry, but it's a thousand times better than a lifetime in a home for lunatics. 

Hongjoong can't believe he didn't think of this earlier. 

He lays out his plan carefully. The laundry room is at the very back of the building, where the lights don't work and the corridors are so narrow they would make anyone claustrophobic. There's a reason for the gloom, a reason why it's so rare to find workers down these corridors. This is where the dangerous patients are kept. 

Some of them have been here so long that their names have faded from the doors completely. Hongjoong tries to recall if he's ever seen any of their faces. 

He has. 

He remembers now. He has. 

It was seven years ago, when Hongjoong was just adjusting to having to walk down that awful cramped hallway with the noisy laundry cart pushed before him. He had turned a corner casually only to look into the fierce eyes of a man younger than he was, staring defiantly at him from where he stood leaning against the wall. He had broken his cell lock with his bare hands. 

Hongjoong had screamed, and workers came running. It took five people to get him back into his cell, another two to replace the lock. Hongjoong had asked how long the boy had been there; he had looked so young. He hadn't gotten an answer. He had looked for a number, but it had worn away. 

The name, however, was not completely gone; the door still read: 

C o o gh 

Coogh. Hongjoong snorts at the memory.

He wonders if the boy is still alive. 

...

Mingi has been at the asylum for three weeks when he wakes up to Yunho cuddled up next to him. 

He jumps up, arms flailing, resisting a scream. Yunho leaps to his feet with his cheeks burning. 

"How did you get in here?" Mingi hisses. "You wouldn't fit through the bars!" 

"It was easy." Yunho is there, and then he isn't. Mingi coughs, then looks down to see a mouse scurrying over into Yunho's side of the cell. In the blink of an eye, there stands Yunho again. 

Right. He can change his shape. 

Mingi's going to have to try harder to remember that. 

...

"Shh." 

San's finger comes up to touch Wooyoung's lips. The younger falls silent, looking ahead to where his companion is pointing. Lights, in the middle of the woods. A building. 

"The asylum," Wooyoung whispers. "We're at the asylum." 

San looks worried. "Call me by my full name so I know you're by me." 

This is one of San's peculiarities. Wooyoung says softly, "I'm with you, Choi San. I'm here." 

San stares out into the darkness. His eyes are fixed, intense. 

"I need to know," he murmers, "what's going on in..." He checks his notes, the ones he found tied to a kite string; the ones with no signature, but a mystery that San is bound on solving. "Room 5. That's it." 

Wooyoung closes his eyes, letting his whole body relax. He listens, not too hard, just soaking up the sounds around him, and murmers, "Five." 

He hears a breath. Good. "Room five. Uh, hello. Can you hear me?" 

"What the fuck," he hears. "Where are you?" 

"I'm not inside. Um, technology. Who am I talking to?" 

"Your worst nightmare. Go suck it, this is no technology. You're Marked, aren't you." 

"Uh. Maybe." 

Marked. It sounded ominous, but the Mark was only a small circle of dark spots on one's wrist or ankle, labeling them one with powers out of the ordinary. 

"I asked, though, who I'm talking to. I want an honest answer." 

"My name is Mars." 

Mars. "That's an odd name." 

No response. He tries again. "How old are you?" 

"If my calculations are correct," the voice sounds extremely tired, "about twenty-five." 

"How long have you been here?" 

"Eight years." 

He takes a deep breath. This one is important. "Are you Marked?" 

The silence is deafening. 

"Yes." 

He is. Mars has the Mark. He's not insane, then, he's not a patient; he's a prisoner. 

"What ability d-do you have?" Wooyoung curses himself for stuttering. 

"That is none of your business, Voice. I don't know who you are." 

"My name is Wooyoung. Thank you for the talk. Good night." 

He exhales and opens his eyes. San is watching him expectantly.

"Well?" 

Wooyoung breathes deeply. "Room Five is named Mars. He's about twenty-five, has been here eight years. Has a general bad attitude. And, um, he has the Mark." 

"His ability?" 

"Wouldn't say. He doesn't seem dangerous, though." 

"You never can tell." San stands up. "Let's go, Woo. We can continue later." 

Wooyoung stands with him. He knows that this mystery, this man- Mars- and his ability, the asylum, aren't important to his life at all; he knows there's nothing he and San can do. But he feels compelled to try, and San is determined. Wooyoung will stick by San no matter what, even if he knows it's pointless. 

After all, love makes people do crazy things.


	3. Utopia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [warnings: drug use/vaguely mentioned sexual abuse] 
> 
> just because you're not in captivity doesn't mean you're free. 
> 
> [This isn't Inseong from KNK or SF9. It's an OC]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i apologize beforehand for hurting my bby angel :( 
> 
> nothing is too graphic but the drug part may be disturbing? it explains the storyline but the story mostly still makes sense without it, you can skip it if you want. 
> 
> Also, this chapter is set 12 years in the past.

A thirteenth birthday is a big day. 

"You're a teenager today. How does it feel?" Inseong asks curiously, as if he hasn't been a teenager for years already himself. 

"I don't feel any different." His cousin shrugs. He picks up his Coco-Cola casually. "It may take time for it to sink in." 

Inseong chuckles. "By then, you'll be turning fourteen." 

"Maybe." 

Inseong ruffles the younger boy's hair. "I was thirteen when I first tried coke." 

"Bro!" His cousin stares. "I've been drinking this shit since the cradle, basically." 

"Not that, buddy. This." Inseong pulls a matchbox from his pocket and opens it to reveal white powder. "You want some?" 

His cousin wrinkles his nose. Inseong has always been weird, especially since he turned thirteen himself, which was also when he started seeming so much older than he was. This is just another typical weird, very Inseong thing to do.

"No thanks." 

"Aw, come on. It's fun." 

"Looks gross." 

"Try it, really." 

"I'm good." 

Inseong's eyes are oddly red around the edges. "Try. It." 

"I- I don't want to!" 

"Fine." Inseong sniffs. "You'll never know what you're missing out on." 

That awakens his curiosity. "Well... maybe I'll try a little. Not too much. Do you eat it?" 

Inseong laughs hoarsely. "No, buddy, you don't eat it. Let me show you."

..

Inseong is found dead of a drug overdose slightly over a week later. 

Juvenile detention is a rough place for a thirteen-year-old. The boy is violent, unpleasant, and has a nasty attitude towards any allusion to his late cousin. He's every inch the problem child he appears. 

It doesn't even take him three weeks to attempt to break out. 

..

The corridor is cold. Hongjoong shivers, pressed against the wall to avoid being seen. He's incredibly near to the exit. This is the hard part; thankfully, Hongjoong has escaped the center so many times, he knows the way out by heart. 

He takes a step and freezes as he hears the sound of someone gag as though about to throw up. 

He wants to run, but he has nowhere to go. He can't move forward fast enough; the escape is too complicated, too calculated. He can't run back, there's clearly someone back there. 

So he doesn't move. If he gets caught, he gets caught. 

There's dead silence for a moment. Then a bent figure with long, soft brown hair appears within ten feet of him. 

Another person broke out tonight. He's not the only one on the run. 

He inhales sharply as the other boy lifts his head. It's the druggie they brought in a few weeks back, thirteen years old and already an addict. They said he was lucky they discovered him so early in the stages of addiction. He still had a chance. 

"Shh," the boy whispers. 

His face is white as a ghost, eyes rimmed with red, but despite it all he's the prettiest boy Hongjoong has ever seen. He swallows. His hormones are at peak dysfunction, that's why his heart leaps just looking at the boy's face. That's all it is, he swears. 

"Who the fuck are you?" 

The boy sniffs. "You know who I am." 

"Yeah I fucking do. What are you doing, crackhead? Planning to get out and ruin more innocent kids' lives?" 

"I don't wanna ruin nobody's life." The boy looks strangely angelic, face blank and pale. "I kind of just wanna die." 

Hongjoong's heard that one before. 

"That's a dumb idea. Don't you dare try anything." 

"I hurt all the time." The boy bites his lip. "I want more of the stuff Inseong gives me." 

Hongjoong doesn't fail to notice the present tense. 

"Your cousin's dead, man." 

"Yeah," the boy says dreamily. "That's right. He is." 

"You need to drink some water. Get some fresh air." 

"Maybe," the boy agrees. "What are you in here for?" 

Hongjoong's lip curls. "Assault." 

"Nice." 

"It isn't." 

"Okay." 

"You're weird." 

"I just need help. The lady says I'll be okay." 

"Are you in rehab yet?" 

"Yeah. I guess it's helping." 

They stay silent for a few moments. 

"Is that why you're here?" Hongjoong asks. "Drug use?" 

He knows it is, but he asks anyway. 

"I think so," the boy mumbles. "It ain't my fault. It's Inseong's. I hate him!" He bursts out. His eyes are full of tears. "I fucking hate him!" 

"He's dead and gone. He can't hurt you." 

"He liked touching me," the boy whispers. "A lot. Too much. He said I was pretty. I don't wanna be pretty." 

Hongjoong's stomach lurches. He's heard that one, too. 

"How- how much?" 

"I don't know," the answer comes helplessly. "I can't remember." 

"You were drugged?" 

"Drunk." 

"Oh." 

He's heard that one as well. He doesn't want to hear it again. 

The boy closes his eyes. He looks like a painting, unreal and beautiful. "Who are you?" 

"Hongjoong." 

"Hongjoong," the boy repeats. "Hello, Hongjoong. I'm Seonghwa." 

...

Hongjoong shudders as he tears himself back out of those ugly memories. 

He hates remembering young Seonghwa, lost and abused and wanting so badly for it all to end. He was only thirteen, far too young to be in such a horrible situation. Hongjoong had gotten into the center by himself. Seonghwa had been forced there by his demon of a cousin. 

Rehab had somehow cured Seonghwa after years, and at seventeen years old he and Hongjoong had been freed. They had spent some time living together. Then Seonghwa's gift had been discovered. 

Hongjoong had known Seonghwa was Marked from the first time they met; he had sensed it. He gave off an aura that didn't seem real, almost, like he came from another world. In the most intimate moment of their lives, held in each other's arms with Seonghwa's lips brushing against Hongjoong's, the older boy had told Hongjoong what his gift was. He had been afraid; Hongjoong had soothed that fear. He wasn't going to love Seonghwa any less for the gift, or curse, he was given. 

Two months later Seonghwa was caught and taken to the asylum. 

Hongjoong throws down the rag he's been holding, cursing. Eight more hours until he puts his plan into action. Eight more hours until he and Seonghwa are free again. 

He thinks of the new boy they brought here, and his cellmate. They don't deserve this life either, but what can Hongjoong do about that? 

Nothing, he assures himself, nothing at all. 

It doesn't sit well, regardless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry :( pls tell me if you're too uncomfortable and I will make edits to the chapter


	4. Mist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hongjoong's plan doesn't go how he hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so
> 
> uh
> 
> ATEEZ LIGHTSTICK AAAAAAHHHHH

"Mars." 

Hongjoong freezes, on his knees next to Seonghwa, prepared to wake him up. He waits, wondering if the voice was real or just his imagination. 

"Mars, are you there?" 

"Who are you?" Hongjoong asks. 

"You're not Mars." 

"I don't know who Mars is. Who are you?" 

"I talked to him." The voice sounds confused. "I got the right room, I know I did. Are you a patient?" 

"No. I work here." 

Then it hits him. Mars. 

Hwaseong. That's Mars, in his and Seonghwa's native language. Hwaseong. Seonghwa. 

"Seonghwa, wake up!" He shakes the man, glancing nervously over his shoulder. "Wake up, please!" 

Seonghwa opens his eyes. He shoves Hongjoong off of him. 

"Don't touch me." 

Hongjoong doesn't speak. 

"Mars!" The voice sounds relieved. "So you are here!" 

"You again?" 

"I'm getting him out," Hongjoong says. He doesn't know why he feels the need to tell the voice. "I've found a way." 

There's a pause. Seonghwa's eyes are wide. 

"You're getting me out?" 

"I have to go," the voice says. "Uh, good luck." 

He sounds nervous. Afraid. 

Hongjoong meets Seonghwa's eyes. The other man is still staring at him. 

Hongjoong gestures to the laundry cart. "Get in." 

Seonghwa swallows and nods. He climbs slowly into the cart, hidden beneath dirty sheets and pillowcases. 

Hongjoong inhales and pushes the cart back out, closing and barring the door behind him. 

Here goes. 

...

San tugs Wooyoung's wrist. "Move faster, Woo, we're almost there." 

"I can't," Wooyoung hisses. "I'm moving as fast as I can." 

"We're here-" San starts, then freezes. "Oh, my God." 

Wooyoung opens his mouth to speak, then stops. 

The woods open up into a clearing before them. The asylum looms, dark and foreboding, seeming larger than it did before. And all around it, from the trees to the grass to the wooden roof of the building itself, orange tongues leap and dance as though alive. It's burning. 

The asylum is burning. 

Wooyoung sees figures illuminated by the flames, two male figures approaching fast. He looks at San in a panic, but San is frozen in place, unable to move. 

The figures are closer, and then they're here. Two young men, one smaller, with nervous eyes that look right at him and San; Wooyoung knows he's seeing them. The other has his head down, face hidden. The shorter man pulls the taller down behind the bushes. 

"Were you the voice?" He whispers, and it's the worker Wooyoung encountered earlier, his tone laced with fear yet oddly calm. "One of you must have been." 

"It's me," Wooyoung murmers. "I'm the voice. Is he Mars?" 

The taller man lifts his head, and Wooyoung holds back a gasp; because he's beautiful, Mars is beautiful, like a statue carved from marble by an artist whose skills couldn't possibly be from this world. He's ethereal. 

"Yes," the worker says softly. "This is him. But his name isn't Mars, it's Seonghwa." 

Wooyoung nods. 

"And I'm Hongjoong. We need to leave." 

"All right." Wooyoung pulls San to his feet, snapping him out of his horrified trance. "San, this is Seonghwa and Hongjoong. Where do we need to go? San will guide us." 

"I don't know," Hongjoong says helplessly. "Away."

"Did you start the fire?" San says hoarsely. 

"No." Hongjoong shakes his head. "I don't know who did, but please, we need to go." 

That's when they hear footsteps. 

A tall figure stumbles into the woods, eyes wild, reflecting the firelight. He's closely followed by a shorter man, with another thrown over his back. 

"Hongjoong." The tall young man stops. 

"Yunho. And..." Hongjoong eyes the unconscious man, thrown across the last boy's back. "Mingi." 

The boy carrying him adds, "Jongho." 

They all look at him. He shrugs. 

"Did you just say your own name?" Seonghwa asks. 

"It was the only one left." 

They run. 

Yunho is Marked, Wooyoung quickly discovers. He changes shape repeatedly, from a bat to a bird to a mouse to a bear, each time looking a little more exhausted after turning back. Seonghwa stumbles every few steps, unaccustomed to using his legs. 

Jongho, it appears, is either Marked with the gift of superhuman strength, or a freak of nature. He carries Mingi effortlessly, never once losing his energy or slowing his pace. San runs ahead, scouting, and returns to report the way clear. He adds something on the end, but Wooyoung doesn't catch it. 

He's too busy focusing on the voices behind them. The voices of their crowd of pursuers. 

They need to move fast. 

"Mingi started the fire," San tells Wooyoung in an undertone. "Hongjoong isn't Marked." 

"Mm hm." Wooyoung is barely paying attention. "What, uh, what can Seonghwa do again?" 

"He won't say. No one wants to tell me." 

San runs ahead again. Wooyoung is growing more and more nervous. 

They find themselves in another clearing, but in the darkness with the clouds over the moon they can barely see. There appear to be strange dark lumps rising up from the ground. 

And they're cornered. The voices behind them are getting closer and closer, but only San and Jongho have any energy left. Wooyoung collapses on the ground with tears in his eyes. There's nothing more he can do. 

"Seonghwa," Hongjoong says softly. 

"I can't." 

"Seonghwa, please." 

"I can't, I just can't."

"It's our only chance. Please, my love. There's no other way." 

"I'm scared," Seonghwa whispers. 

"I know, darling. So am I. But please." 

"I'm not your darling."

Seonghwa rises slowly to his feet. The wind whipping at his clothes gives him the appearance of some terrible angel. His eyes look set, determined, but there's a shadow of fear cast across his face. He's going to use his gift, Wooyoung thinks, and with it comes the realization; Seonghwa is afraid of himself, of whatever it is he's about to do. 

"Close your eyes," he says. His voice is low. 

Wooyoung's eyelids fall shut. 

He hears a distant rumbling, like far-off thunder. The voices are here now; their pursuers have arrived. The ground beneath them shakes, or maybe that's just Wooyoung trembling. 

The sounds grow louder. There's a tearing noise, footsteps, and screams; horrible, terrified, undeniably human screams. The tearing is unbearable, intense, and Wooyoung thinks he hears unexplainable clicking. 

The noises swell a hundredfold, making Wooyoung want to scream. San whimpers beside him, and Wooyoung hugs him close. He hears heavy breathing from Seonghwa's direction. The clicking stops, then the screams vanish, the footsteps come to a halt, the rumbling is gone, there's a crash and then a dead silence. 

"You can open your eyes now," Hongjoong says shakily. 

Wooyoung doesn't think he wants to, but he looks. Nothing looks different, the crowd of pursuers nowhere in sight, but Seonghwa is on his hands and knees on the ground, shoulders shaking. 

And then it hits him. 

Clicking... like the sound of bone against bone. Footsteps, screams. The mysterious lumps- stones- on the ground. A gift that strikes fear to the heart of its own wielder...

Seonghwa rises from the ground, still shaking, facing away from the others. Wooyoung wants to speak, to ask questions, to say that he knows. "You can raise the dead." Yet he can't seem to make a sound. 

Seonghwa turns, his eyes sad and dark. The tears on his face look like frozen raindrops, reflecting the moonlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly..... I could have put more effort into this lMAo hope it's not too crappy


	5. Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> where do we go from here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seriously need to sleep

"You can raise the dead." 

It's Yunho who speaks. He isn't asking a question, rather stating a fact; Seonghwa can raise the dead, and that is exactly what he just did. San grips Wooyoung's hand tighter. Yunho repeats himself, voice shaking. "Oh my goodness, you can raise the dead." 

"Yes," Seonghwa manages, his voice tense. 

"Yes." 

Now that voice isn't familiar. 

"But maybe you should try and get a little better and lowering them back down again." 

San hardly dares turn his head. He can't resist, however; he has to know. He inhales and slowly rotates his body to look in the direction of the new voice. 

The boy standing behind them is petite, with cold, dark eyes and skin like white satin. There are dark circles under his eyes and his lips are dry and cracked. And he's ethereal, easily as beautiful as Seonghwa, maybe even more. San wouldn't have thought that was possible. 

"It's been a while since I've been up here," the beautiful boy says. "I haven't seen the night sky like this since long before my death." 

San gasps. "You're dead." 

The boy smiles a bitter smile. Somehow he still looks like an angel. "I am dead." 

"Who are you?" Hongjoong asks faintly. 

The boy points one pale finger to the moss-covered stone beside him. 

San squints. In the darkness, he can't make out the letters. Mingi's hand lights up with flames and San reads slowly off the stone, "1890-1909. Beloved son and grandson. Gone but never forgotten." 

Wooyoung reaches out and traces the name on the stone, brushing away the moss. He speaks, his voice sad and soft. "Hello, Kang Yeosang." 

...

Mingi really doesn't like Jongho. 

He can't help it. In spite of everything the young man has done for him- pulling him from the vast collapsing building before he was crushed to death, carrying him the whole time they ran, shielding him from the noises of Seonghwa's undead army- Jongho just gets on his nerves. For that matter, he doesn't like Seonghwa either, but the tears helped make him more human, even if they did look unreal. Jongho is different. 

Yunho has tried convincing Mingi to give Jongho a chance, and he wants to. He's only known him for an hour, of course; there's plenty of time for things to change. 

Mingi can tell a few things easily. San and Wooyoung are in a relationship. Hongjoong and Seonghwa must be, but there's an odd sort of tension between them. Jongho doesn't like Mingi, and Yeosang.... Yeosang is unreadable. 

And Yunho. Yunho with his sparkly bright eyes and his cheeks that just make Mingi want to squish him. He's the last person on earth who deserves to suffer the way he has, and it just isn't fair. 

"Earth to Mingi." San snaps his fingers. "We're moving again." 

Yeosang is guiding them now, though no one is sure whether to trust him. Undead can see in the dark, and for sure no one else can, so Yeosang is their only hope for now. Unless they want Mingi to use his power, which, after he nearly killed most of them, is unlikely. 

Mingi trails after San, hand in hand with Yunho. The puppy doesn't speak, either because he has nothing to say or because he's just too worn out for words.

"It's not fair," Mingi says aloud. 

He hears silence. Silence isn't a sound, yet Mingi hears it, loud and clear. 

Then Wooyoung answers him, voice cracking wearily. "No, it isn't." 

An honest young man with a job and a life to live, an optimistic shapeshifter, two attached-at-the-hip teenagers, a boy with superhuman strength, a necromancer with hopelessly sad eyes, a long-dead beauty with something dark in his smile, and Mingi himself, just a lost boy with a terrible power. The most random, out-of-place crew of misfits you could ever piece together. 

Yet, they fit like pieces of a puzzle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hongjoong japanese comeback teaser WOOOOOOO


	6. Sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sun will always rise again

The sun rising seems incredible to Seonghwa. 

It's the first time in years that he's seen it. He stands up quietly from the place where they've been sleeping, stepping softly over the figures on the ground and moving towards the hill in front of them. His gaze lingers for a second on Yeosang, who sits on a rock facing away from everyone else, staring off into the distance; after all, the dead never sleep. Seonghwa lets out the smallest of sighs and walks shakily to the top of the hill, amazed that his legs don't give out. 

He sits on the top and watches the sun rise. There's a light wind, blowing through his hair and chilling him slightly, but he feels alive, for the first time in so long. He can breathe. He's free. 

"What are you thinking about?" 

He turns to look at Hongjoong. In the pale, rosy light from the rising sun the smaller man looks ethereal, like whatever gods may live in the sky personally crafted him with careful hands. Seonghwa can't look away. 

"I'm sorry," he says. 

Hongjoong sits next to him. He doesn't speak. 

"For doubting you," Seonghwa continues, exhaling. "I'm sorry I thought you were lying to me. It was.... Hongjoong, you don't know, you could never know what it felt like in there. Hopeless, like... I wanted to die, Hongjoong. I even wanted the detention center days to come back. But I know now that you really were doing everything you could. I'm sorry." 

"Would I have stayed so long, if I was lying?" Hongjoong asks softly. 

Seonghwa doesn't answer that. 

"Where will we go?" He says at last. "We have nowhere. No one." 

"Not entirely," Hongjoong says with a slight smile. "I know a place." 

"I trust you," Seonghwa says. 

They stare at each other for a moment, lost in thought. For Seonghwa, "I trust you" is a thousand times harder to say than "I love you" could ever be. Love is easy, but trust? Trust is the farthest thing from it. Yet he does trust Hongjoong. He truly does. 

"Thank you," Hongjoong says at last. 

Seonghwa takes Hongjoong's hand. It's a habit from long ago, something he used to take for granted. He'll never make that mistake again. 

The sun is bright in the sky over their heads now. The world is waking up again. 

...

"Mingi." 

It's Jongho's voice. He tries to ignore it. 

"Mingi!" 

He turns, slightly pissed at the tone in Jongho's voice. "What?" 

Jongho looks taken aback, and maybe even a little bit hurt. "I want to ask you something." 

"What is it? I don't have all day." 

"Why do you hate me?" 

Mingi stares at him. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again. "I don't hate you, I just.... I mean.... why- why do you hate me, then?" 

Jongho's eyes widen. "I don't! I don't hate you at all!" 

"Then why do you always act like you do?" 

Jongho seems speechless. "I- when have I- what are you talking.... I've never hated you! Why would I?" 

"I mean..." Mingi sighs in defeat. "Because I started the asylum fire." 

Jongho stops. He tilts his head to one side. There's an odd expression in his eyes.

Then he laughs. Truly laughs, the kind of Mingi hasn't heard in quite a while. "I'm the farthest thing from mad about that! Mingi, that was incredible." 

"I- really?" 

"Of course." Jongho sticks out his hand. "Here's to starting over?" 

"On a better note, hopefully," Mingi says heartily, and they shake. 

"Holy- why is your grip so painful?" 

Jongho's laughter seems to ring all around them as he strolls away to sit at Yeosang's side. 

Mingi shakes his head, a smile forming, and turns to see Yunho looking at him with a serious expression on his usually cheerful face. 

"Can we talk?"


	7. Dazzling Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a home for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so we've reached the end :) 
> 
> .....of one installment
> 
> there are more
> 
> their story's not over
> 
> the show must go on :D

"When I saw you, unconscious, in the middle of that fire, I thought I was going to die."

Yunho's words echo through Mingi's head again. He hadn't been able to think of a response, but Yunho hadn't appeared to be expecting one. He had walked away with finality, as though leaving Mingi behind forever. 

"I need to think. I need to figure out what I'm feeling." 

Mingi repeats those words to himself. Yunho really did sound like he plans to leave. 

"For now, I need space." 

Space. 

Basically, "I like you, maybe, so I need you to stay away from me." Mingi flinches. It stings. 

He turns and slowly drags his feet over to the resting area again, as though there's something there that could help him. 

He sees nothing but grass and sky, stretching out as far as he can see in towards the east. To the west are woods, trees close together, branches blocking the sun. Heaven only knows what's in there, and Mingi doesn't mix well with flammable substances. He doesn't want to burn the whole forest down. 

"Hey." 

It's San. He looks cautious, a little worried. "Hongjoong sent me to give you these." 

Gloves. 

Mingi swallows. 

"He thinks they may help... contain your power while you're in the woods," San adds. 

Little does Hongjoong know...

But he made an effort. He's trying to help, trying to make things secure. Mingi will oblige, though he knows it will do no good. 

"Tell him I said thank you." 

San looks around then licks his lips. "Bye, I guess." 

"B- wait, what?" 

San stares at the ground. 

"You're leaving? You're leaving us?" Mingi can't believe it. He hasn't really talked to San at all, but he didn't expect this, a piece of their crew breaking away so soon...

"I have.... well, a home," San squirms uncomfortably. "A family. School, friends. So does Woo. We can't stay, as much as we'd, um, like it. We're going back home, and... Yunho's coming with us." 

No. 

"Okay," Mingi rasps, and he turns and runs. 

...

Jongho pities the fire boy. 

He knows Mingi is afraid of him, and it's endearing in a way, mostly because he has good reason to be afraid. Ever since Jongho broke out of his asylum cell, er, room with nothing but his bare hands, he's been treated like some sort of god by everyone who knew. In truth, he barely remembers how he did it; he was fueled by panic, by terror and borderline insanity. He'd felt suffocated, trapped in that cramped, dark little room. His fear had broken the lock. 

Mingi lies on the ground where they slept, eyes closed, but Jongho knows he's awake. He knows Yunho is leaving, and he knows the two are close. And so he pities the burning boy, and he pities the puppy, and he pities them all because this life is a luxury to them. Out in the middle of nowhere with no food or blankets and barely any water, yet they're rejoicing. This, he supposes, is the life of the Gifted. 

Jongho stares at his hands. There's a dark ring around his left wrist, like a tattoo of a chain, but it's not a tattoo. It's a mark, but not like the Mark of the Gifted. He turns to look over at the others, San and Wooyoung holding hands and saying their goodbyes, Mingi on the ground, Yunho standing awkwardly at the side, Hongjoong looking at Seonghwa who's earnestly speaking to San and Wooyoung. He gazes a little farther and sees Yeosang, as still and silent as ever, seated on his rock. If they only knew who, what he is.... if they only knew what they had done when they brought Jongho with them. 

...

Hongjoong turns slowly to face the group. 

"They're gone," he says softly. "Now we move." 

"The woods?" Mingi croaks. 

"No." 

They all flinch. Hongjoong stares in surprise at the owner of the defiant voice. 

Yeosang doesn't move a muscle, not even to blink. He stares blankly for a total of ten seconds before he speaks.

"Not the woods." 

"Where, then?" Hongjoong sighs. "We can't go back. Do you want us to cross the field? We need to get to a road." 

"I know." 

Yeosang raises his right arm stiffly. Face cold and unreadable, he points one pale finger to the south. 

The river. 

"The road lies that way," he says quietly. "Are you brave enough?" 

It's not a taunt. 

"We don't have a boat," Hongjoong manages. 

"Yes, we do." 

Sure enough, there it is; a boat, no, two, big enough for the five of them, waiting by the water's edge. 

"How...?" Seonghwa marvels. 

"Do not question." Yeosang's eyes are disturbing. "Just move." 

Hongjoong doesn't like his tone. 

"You go first," he says. 

"If you say so." Yeosang steps into the smaller boat. "Who will join me?" 

"I will." Jongho steps up to join. 

"Brave," Yeosang says softly. He looks up at Hongjoong, Seonghwa and Mingi. 

"We don't have forever to stand staring," he says. "Are you coming?" 

So they board their boat, push off the the shore and move. No oars, no motor, yet they move swiftly, never bumping the shore or each other. Hongjoong watches as the living fall asleep, and he stares up at the night sky, alight with brilliant blue, green and purple lights. 

"Protect us, please, my aurora," he whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun DUN! (stan everglow) 
> 
> next installment is on its way but idk exactly when. soon hopefully

**Author's Note:**

> Don't judge me too hard I'm weak


End file.
